Dear Santa,
All I want for Christmas is for my ex to get my job as president of this country.
And can I have my present early, please… this weekend, in fact, when my party holds its big bash at Nasrec?
I know this request might sound strange as we are… ‘estranged’. You must understand that one of my six wives actually tried to poison me, or so my highly trained security people tell me.
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” English author William Congreve said in his play ‘The Mourning Bride’ way back in the late 17th century. Boy! Did he hit the nail on the butternut.
By the way, I haven’t actually read Congreve’s work, but I ‘Giggled’ the phrase just to find out where it comes from as it’s so relevant to my situation.
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My favourite artist, Jay-Z wrote a song named ‘Girls, girls, girls’. (Heh, heh, heh). Journalist Tom Head said he should have called it ‘Wives, wives, wives’ (heh, heh, heh). Can you believe it, this Head chap also suggested I had ‘cut more wedding cakes than a bakery’! Bloody cheek, but he has a point.
I suppose I have to concede… begrudgingly… that he’s right when he says I’m ‘no stranger to suits’… wedding suits, civil suits, law suits, etc., (heh, heh, heh).
Nkosazana and I split up in 1998 because of ‘irreconcilable differences’ (which I don’t want to elaborate on), but I can’t afford to trust anyone else to take over from me because that Buffalo guy might just get nasty and make me face those pesky fraud charges that everyone keeps harping on about.
So, I’m begging you, Santa, please stuff NDZ in my Christmas stocking (I don’t mean that literally, of course). Just don’t call her ‘Mini-Zuma’ on the Christmas card as the poo really hit the fan when SABC dared to call her that recently.
Yours sincerely, Jacob.
PS: Please give my regards to JC if you see him. And tell Him He need not come back down to earth just yet. I think I’ve still got it covered, if you grant me my Christmas wish.
Dear JZ, I know how you feel, buddy. I have this guy who works in the production department at the Herald who tried to poison all his colleagues this week. OK, it wasn’t on purpose. He baked a batch of cookies and wrapped them nicely in empty tuna fish tins. Luckily, we discovered he used toxic paint before we scoffed the biscuits. Warm regards, Butthead.
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